Dirty Projectors
Live,
Calexico are basically a Latino jam band with limited backflips to their alt-country roots, and that's why they were booked here, as groove merchants rather than dusty storytellers. Given the general sense of unfamiliarity with the collective's recent output (some confused punters wondered aloud if they "were Combo La Revelacion"), everyone else seemed awestruck by Spanish-speaking warbler Salvador Duran and trumpeter extraordinaire Jacob Valenzuela. 'Two Silver Trees' from
Carried to Dust was the closest we got to a singalong while Valenzuela's explosion on 'House of Valparaiso' inspired pockets of square dancing. But this was mostly about lolling back and soaking up the skill.
The Cruel Sea was the second big throwback act of the weekend (the third if you count Dinosaur Jr). Tex Perkins is no stranger to amphitheatre, reforming Beasts of Bourbon in 2003 for a memorable Meredith performance. Sadly, the same couldn't be said this year, with many of the songs showing their age and the band, while nailing the arrangements, appeared to be going through the motions. 'The Honeymoon is Over' was played last and went nuts, just as the rain got annoying again.
Calexico
Entering mid-Midnight Juggernauts set, positioned in the guts about halfway up the hill, our lightly 'touched' companion soon leaned over to yell, "WHEN DID MIDNIGHT JUGGERNAUTS BECOME THE BEST BAND IN THE WORLD?". I knew what he meant. Midnight Juggernauts until this point have seemed the kid brother to the Presets and Cut Copy, not sure if they want to be a bouncy dance band or a psychedlic rock act. Tonight, in the steam, darkness, rain and pulverising lightshow, they made the separation between the two seem silly. Frontman Vincent Vendetta and bassist Andrew Szekeres appeared like Shamen in the steam, the former toting a neck scarf, the latter a kilt; their low, strange voices less gimmicky that in the past and more like the bridge between the bands dance backbone and their strobing, psychedelic tendencies. Before the band's set we were wondering who would provide the climatic moment of the night - as they rounded out an epic, thumping 'Tombstone', Vendetta brought an inflatable boat on stage. "The organisers said I shouldn't do this", he quipped, before donning a sailor's cap and setting off atop the crowd and up the hill. With the house lights on, the teeming rain coming down, Vendetta saluted before directing his charges back down the slope to be delivered on stage once again. It was perhaps the highlight of the festival, and the kind of triumphant, opinion-shifting union that seems to happen at Golden Plains and Meredith on an annual basis.
Opulent Sound saddled up for a second year before a seething mass of gurning face-gnawers, but despite about 7 hype-men, failed to achieve lift-off -- pedestrian mixing murdering Jay Z's 'Empire State of Mind' and Toto's 'Africa' when it would have been better to let the tracks play out in full. At times, a 15-year old wielding an iPod could have produced a more coherent party set, especially if they managed to avoid yet another tawdry rendition of 'Paper Planes'. Which Opulent didn't.
An excellent
Gaslamp Killer, the clear pick of the DJs, threw out brazen beats in every direction and only occasionally anchored the floor with something danceable. A triumph if you were in the right mood, but others clearly weren't, with The Vine witnessing an irate Wally Meanie being ejected from the Pink Flamingo bar by heavy-handed security.
Optimo were plagued by sound problems early after Gaslamp's relentless fiddling with the setup but quickly redeemed themselves, dropping 'Psycho Killer' alongside some simulated crowd noise to raise interest levels ("the oldest trick in book", according to a DJ accomplice). Cheap detours into recognisable pop were mostly avoided, the set a pleasing melange of techy bleeps and studied mixes. While 1 or 2,000 devotees loved it out the mud, the broader crowd had thinned markedly, indicating a take-it-or-leave-it view of the Meredoof component or a recognition that 19-hours of continuous music in one day is approaching overkill. Like Ransom on Saturday, the still-perky Glaswegians ended with 'Shivers' by Roland S Howard, prompting a Top Camp singalong while a buggered rest-of-the-festival dribbled silently into their pillows.